Confession
by Wyndi
Summary: Hunter goes to confession, with some intriguing results.


Content: Mature subject matter, m/m slash, language.  
  
Character/s: Hunter, Randy Orton.  
  
Disclaimer: I own NO ONE depicted in these fics. I am not endorsed by any person, corporation, federation, promotion, etc., nor do I receive any monies for writing sick and twisted tales of their imagined goings-on. Lyrics, quotations, etc. used without permission. No infringement or disrespect to the various artisans is intended, so please don't sue me.  
  
Notes: This has some rather naughty religious imagery that may be offensive to some. Consider yourselves duly warned. That's what I get for watching "The Sopranos" and finding the priest in it to be incredibly hot, I guess.  
  
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"No man can wear one face to himself and another to   
  
the multitude without finally getting bewildered as   
  
to which may be true." - Hawthorne  
  
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"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."  
  
But have I really? Is loving a sin? Being true to your feelings, following your gut instinct?   
  
"It has been three months since my last confession."  
  
Jesus, has it been that long? I HAVE been busy, huh?   
  
Tell you my troubles? God, how much time do you have? Ten years? Twenty? Shit, where do I start? With Angle? With Benoit? I'd have to go all the way back to Jarrett, huh? I mean, if I really wanted to start at the beginning... Well, let's just cover last night and see how things go.  
  
That thump… I know that sound pretty well by now. That was Father Andrew dropping his Bible. I don't know why he pushed me to do this. He knew he'd be getting an earful. He always does, no matter how sporadically I come here.  
  
"Do I know Our Lord's views on homosexual behavior? You're God damned right I do, if you'll pardon my French. Do I actually give a flying fuck? No way. Hell, if it was so sinful, why'd He make it so much fun, then? "  
  
Just as I thought. No answer for that one. Just that polite clearing of his throat to let me know that he doesn't appreciate my language. Or my sarcasm. Typical, really. They ought to issue a sense of humor along with those sexy robes when they graduate from Seminary or wherever the hell it is they go to learn to become men of God. Hell, maybe they learn it in a hands-on kinda way, which would explain the current state of the Catholic Church today.  
  
But I think I'm getting off the subject. I'm supposed to be telling my deepest, darkest secrets right now, after all.  
  
"Yes, I know the Church's views on the subject. And no, it doesn't particularly bother me, either. I like women, too, you know? Well, maybe you DON'T know, but you know what I mean at least, right?"  
  
Again with the throat-clearing. He's not happy with me right now, that's for damn sure. Oh well. Serves him right for insisting that I be honest with him. Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Last night. Randy Orton, a bottle of champagne, and an initiation of sorts.   
  
"Yes, Father, I know. But I couldn't help myself. He's so young and so eager to fit in. And his stamina... Well, I guess you don't want to know all about that part, do you?"  
  
I'll be damned. He DOES want the nitty-gritty details. Could he be getting off on this as much as I am? Fine, I'll let him have it.  
  
"I should probably back up a little. I think the first time I had lustful thoughts about Randy was when I saw him in the shower. He was naked and I could see the water streaming down his back, following the curve of his ass. He didn't know I was watching him. I hadn't expected to find anyone in there, actually, and just wanted to get cleaned up after my workout. I didn't even know Randy was at the gym, but I tend to get a little self-absorbed when I'm lifting weights. I'd given him half a glance when he first came to the company, but since I was involved with someone else at the time, I didn't think anything of it. Then came the shower and the minute I saw his hard, wet body in front of me, I knew I had to have him."  
  
There goes the Bible again. Maybe he just does it for effect, so I'll think he disapproves. Hell, he could be jerking off over there for all I know. Who can tell with these guys, anyway?  
  
"Sorry, got lost in thought there for a minute. So I'm standing there, staring at this beautiful boy, wondering how I should best make my presence known when he lifts his arm up and runs his hand through his hair, sending another cascade of steamy water down his back. I'm transfixed, just watching the way the muscles roll beneath that fantastic tattoo that spans his shoulders. I don't know if I sighed or actually moaned out loud, but he turned around. Not scared, not startled, just... watching me. Like he expected me to be there or something. And you know, at some point the towel around my waist just conveniently managed to fall off, and he could see just how much the sight of him affected me."  
  
Was that a chuckle? I swear to fucking God it was! He's enjoying the shit out of this. Guess I better not leave out any details, huh?  
  
"I stepped under the water with him and his arms were around me, tracing the curve of my back, caressing my ass, like we'd been doing this for years. My hands were doing some exploring of their own, as I took my time getting acquainted with every inch of his skin. His cock was something to behold, too. Truly one of the Lord's masterpieces, much like my own. I reached up to put my hand on top of his head, applying just a little bit of pressure. He immediately sank to his knees in front of me, his breath warm against my skin. His little pink tongue darted out to taste me and I forgot my own name."  
  
Heavy breathing now. Very interesting. Both of us are pretty turned on now, and I'm actually thinking about getting myself off while I'm telling this story. Hell, I guess I'd have to confess THAT, too, wouldn't I? Maybe some other time.  
  
"I don't know how long we stayed in there, his heavenly mouth doing all sorts of sinful things to me. I tightened my fingers in his hair, which was his only warning that I was about to climax. He made no effort to stop, so I let him have what he so obviously wanted. My hips pistoned forward and his throat muscles worked around me as he swallowed every drop. After God knows how much time, I finally let go of his hair and he looked up at me, those beautiful eyes of his just boring into mine. I moved back just enough to stare at the vision of him on his knees, the water raining gently down on his head like a cleansing rain. Maybe there's some kind of symbolism there, I don't know."  
  
How blasphemous is this, jerking off in a confessional, knowing Father Andrew is doing the exact same thing on his side of the partition? A slight intake of breath, a barely audible whimper, and I know he's finished before me. And I don't know which is the image that finally sends me over the top. The priest getting off to my sexual escapades or reliving the memory of that first night with Randy.  
  
"So that's about it, Father. Or what led up to last night, anyway."  
  
I guess I should probably tell him I know what I did was wrong, just so we can keep up appearances. He'll give me some ridiculous number of Hail Marys and Our Fathers to say and I'll go on about my business. And then I'll be back in another two to three months with some more masturbation material for the both of us.   
  
I guess I really AM the bad influence everyone accuses me of being. And I don't feel in the least bit sorry for it, either. 


End file.
